Page:The Tricolour, Poems of the Irish Revolution.djvu/60



morning, when dreaming in deep meditation, I met a sweet colleen a-making her moan. With sighing and sobbing she cried and lamented; “Oh, where is my lost one, and where has he flown?

“My house it is small, and my field is but little, Yet round flew my wheel as I sat in the sun, He crossed the deep sea and went forth for my battle: Oh, has he proved faithless—the fight is not won?”

And then I said: “Kathleen, ah! do you remember When you were a queen, and your castles were strong,